


Rise

by Fooeyburr



Series: Debt [4]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Abuse, Light At the End Of the Tunnel, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Oral Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 20:36:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11813730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fooeyburr/pseuds/Fooeyburr
Summary: Stan learns the price of freedom.





	Rise

**Author's Note:**

> A follow-up to Release. There was a two-part fic called Tread in between, but unfortunately that co-author seems to have retreated from this project and deleted their contributions. The transition from Release to Rise is more or less seamless, though, so you didn't miss anything super important. ^^ This one's the latest installment so far, expect more in the future!

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Stanley.”

Could you just shut up for one goddamn moment?

He was sitting naked on the bed, his legs trapped in an uncomfortable position underneath him when he was dragged up and pulled into an intrusive embrace. He felt like he’d been in that same position for hours already. During that time, or maybe a long time before that, he’d learned to put up with the large hands sliding over and palming the creases of his body, occasional fingernails stretching and clawing his skin as if he was a lifeless chunk of meat.

“You sit there like a lifeless chunk of meat.” Hah, tell me something I don’t know. “I don’t like that”, Rico continued murmuring through slow, possessive kisses against the back of his neck. “You know how I like my whores. You used to be so fiery and full of rage. What happened to that, hm?”

Stan chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to keep the shivers in. Rico knew about the back of his neck, he had to. He remembered the victorious smile rippling on his face every time Stan had slipped out of control for a split second. He knew all the spots and places in his body that would make him… slip.

“Put up a little fight, Stanley… Just like old times.”

…Like hell he would do what Rico told him to do. He wouldn’t fight… He’d let him do whatever he wanted.

His hair was grabbed and his head yanked back violently. “Struggle, whore”, Rico growled into his ear, “or I’ll fuck you raw.”

Stan gritted his teeth. Maybe fighting was a better option. Rico would get what he wanted either way, at least he’d be able to walk afterwards.

He gathered the meager strength left in his body and squirmed, driving his elbows up to free himself from Rico’s hold. It was miserably weak, but it seemed to be enough for Rico, who took a rough grip on his arms and wrestled him down on the bed. Stan struggled against the weight pressing him down, but the other man’s strength quickly became overwhelming. He knew it would. He knew he didn’t have a chance, but he continued his weak excuse of trashing around, using every inch of moving space he was allowed to fight back.

“Good boy…”

Rico’s mouth was on him again, curving into a grin in mockery of his struggle while his teeth grazed the shape of his shoulder blades twitching with strain. Stan groaned quietly through his teeth as he could feel Rico’s growing erection press against his thigh. He kicked his feet uselessly, feeling stupid like a fish flopping on dry land, while the spastic movements of his lower body only made the breaths that blew against his neck heavier.

His arms were freed, but before he could even decide what to do with them, Rico pressed him back down with his full body weight; the hand on his back was crushing his lungs while the other slid down between his legs. Even though he was fully prepared for it, the sudden feeling of fingertips kneading his entrance still made breath hitch in Stan’s throat.

His body froze completely even as the weight on his back was released and the fingers stroking him drew back for a moment, giving him the perfect opportunity to rise and fight back. But he didn’t move an inch. He had to stay still, Rico needed his hands free to… He grimaced at the wet sounds he could hear behind him. And he waited quietly, obediently, until Rico was finished and gripped the back of his neck in an almost affectionate manner.

“Hh-!“

A noiseless breath escaped Stan as the lube-coated fingers dug their way in one by one. They sought out his sweet spot without trouble and started moving with slow, forceful strokes that filled Stan’s vision with black spots of pleasure. Violent shivers raked through his entire body, making him writhe and claw at the sheets, but he didn’t make a sound.

This time, Rico was unusually patient with preparing him. By the time he was done, Stan’s cock was rubbing painfully hard against the bed and his head was swimming from the lack of air. He could finally let himself draw a shuddering breath as Rico pulled out his fingers and reached for his zipper. Stan breathed heavily through his nose while Rico undressed himself, struggling against the urge to grind down on the sheets.

But now the man was shifting closer to him. He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt hands ran down his back drenched in sweat, biting his lip as they settled on his hips.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hold back the whine at the first contact.

It was barely audible, more a breath than a sound, but it was enough to make Rico stop in the middle of thrusting himself in. For a few seconds, everything was quiet; Stan was holding his breath again, but he couldn’t stop himself from gasping when Rico suddenly drew back to grab his shoulder and turned him roughly around to face him.

Stan kept his eyes closed tight, but he could feel Rico’s breath on his face, his eyes on his aching hardness.

“Stanley?”

Shut. Up.

Stan felt sick with mortification. He could almost taste the smug smile on Rico’s face as the man ran a finger over the sensitive skin just above his groin, eliciting another choked sound as Stan could feel himself twitch from the teasing touch.

“Look at you. My needy little whore…”

It was disgusting. The man’s lowly humming voice should’ve filled him with nauseating hatred. Instead, it sent another surge of heat into his lower parts, making him grit his teeth with desperation. His hand reached for his own throbbing member, but Rico caught him by his wrist. “No”, he said softly.

“No, Stanley.”

Stop interrupting, for fuck’s sake.

“Say ‘please’.”

Never.

“Stanley, answer me.”

Jesus, just shut up!

“Beg.”

Never. _Never_.

But it was as though his resolution meant nothing, because the endgame was the same; the next thing he knew was a maddening wave of lust as he felt Rico’s heat inside him, his fingernails clutching at the sheets as a choked moan forced its way out, then another, louder one, and an odd, weak grin of relief rippled on his face with each thrust pushing deeper, filling him –

“To be honest with you, Stanley, I don’t think that’s what really happened.”

Stan found himself gripping the arm rests of his chair and let out a grunt of frustration. Of course the smartass had to pick just the right moment to kill his flashback, didn’t he? _Bastard_. “What gives, Doc?” He spat out at last, glaring at the empty wall in front of him as if blaming it for the interruption.

“So you’re finally back”, said a placid voice behind his chair. “You haven’t said anything for a while now.”

“Guess I had nothing to say.”

“No, in fact you’ve talked quite a lot during this session. Although, as I already said, I have my reasons to believe what you told me is not entirely true.”

“Oh, really? _What gives_?”

“Well.” He could hear Dr. Holstein’s pen rustling against his notebook. Just another sound he hated about the man and this entire room. “During an earlier session, you mentioned you managed to escape because Rico forgot to handcuff you to the bed. I understood this was the only such occasion, yet in the situation you described just now, your hands were free.”

Stan remained quiet for a moment. “Huh. Go figure”, he then huffed. “Frankly, I don’t give a damn. What’s it matter if it’s real or not? It’s in my head. I think about it. Hell, I even tell you about it, apparently. Isn’t that what you’re making me sit here for?”

“Nobody can force you to attend these sessions, Stanley.”

“Hah, yeah, right”, Stan scoffed. “Sure.”

As usual, the good doctor spoke like he knew everything. Like Stan had a choice. Well, he didn’t.

He’d stayed in his brother’s house for less than a week before Ford had grown worried enough to start snooping around. Once he’d found the bloodstained underwear Stan had worn after his escape and was planning to get rid of – why couldn’t his brother let a grown man take care of his own damn laundry? – he’d more or less figured out what had happened on the other side of the border. This discovery had led to countless awkward conversation starters that hadn’t led anywhere, even more uncomfortable silences, eventual conflicts, arguments and fights that oddly reminded Stan of their childhood squabbles, even though they were nothing alike.

He refused to talk. Despite all of Ford’s efforts, desperate attempts of persuasion and even certain sharp comments that verged on offhanded blackmail, Stan wouldn’t utter a single word of what he’d gone through. After a few days that had been nothing short of fulltime silent treatment between him and his brother, Ford had nearly broken their bond for good by announcing that he’d gone and spent a good part of his grant on getting Stan the best psychiatric treatment the local services had to offer.

Upon learning that Ford had given up his chances for a successful academic future for his sake, Stan had packed up what little he owned and driven off without saying a word to his brother. He’d returned two hours later.

His disappearance wouldn’t get Ford his funds back, and he had nowhere else to go.

“I see you are reluctant to even accept the help we’re offering you. I understand that, Stanley, I truly do.” Dr. Holstein was flapping his gums again. “It’s not uncommon among victims of sustained captivity and rape –“

“Okay, let me stop you right there”, Stan interrupted, squeezing the arm rests again as a sharp bite of anger raised the note of his voice unnaturally high. “I’ve already told you to not give me any of that… ugh, ‘ _rape_ ’ bullshit.” He grimaced as the foul word left his lips. “He beat me down and fucked me. I fought back and lost. That’s all there was to it. Best man wins or whatever. He just happened to be a particularly sick fuck, but that’s my problem for starting shit with him in the first place, right? Get it, Doc? I’m not a goddamn victim, I’m just a weak fucking loser!”

“Stanley, please try not to raise your voice in my office.” The pen rustled again; Stan gritted his teeth and tried to calm down. He didn’t _want_ to calm down. “Now, I am glad you’ve started talking at last, even though it has required some special arrangements.” During his first three sessions with Dr. Holstein, Stan hadn’t uttered a single word; he couldn’t even look at the doctor seated in front of him. After they’d moved his chair so that it was facing the wall instead, the flashbacks that usually only bugged him at night had suddenly started to flood in at completely haphazard moments. And then he’d talked. And talked.

Stan couldn’t hear a single word pouring out of his mouth when it happened. He was glad he didn’t.

“I also, hm, appreciate your straightforwardness when you tell me about your experiences.” Hah, no doubt; judging from the poorly covered uncomfortableness on his face after every session, Stan hadn’t spared him any of the juicy details. Good. Let the smartass suffer a bit for his ridiculous salary. “However”, the doctor continued, “despite your admirably open take on sharing your trauma, when it comes to actually dealing with it, I don’t think we’ve made much progress just yet. You tell me of your experiences, but you refuse to talk about how you’ve actually _experienced_ them.”

Stan scoffed. “Sorry, pal, but there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Could you at least try to describe how it made you feel?”

“Whoa, wait, seriously? _Seriously?_ ” That was such an incredible question that Stan almost turned around in his chair to stare at the doctor in mocking disbelief. Instead, he just glared daggers at the opposite wall like its existence was the sole cause for every stupid word Dr. Holstein dropped out of his piehole. “How it made me feel? Hah, I mean… I’m pretty sure an educated man like yourself can’t be dumb enough to not have at least a vague idea of what getting your ass kicked on a daily basis feels like! Ever gotten _your_ ass kicked, Doc?”

“I can’t say that I have”, Dr. Holstein admitted. “I haven’t suffered anything even distantly comparable to what you went through.”

“Well, then, let me enlighten you”, Stan snapped back. “It hurts. Like hell. And – and being fucked? Now this might be news to you as well, but going by a general rule, that kind of thing usually feels pretty damn good. Do I need to spell that out for ya?” He hesitated, but the words were already on their way out. “I enjoyed it, for fuck’s sake!”

“Stanley –“

“I mean, that’s pretty natural, right? I, I really gotta give it to that fucker, he actually knew what he was doing! What with being a big name in the business and all! He’s probably fucked everyone and their aunt by now! My point being, that wasn’t on me! That wasn’t even bad! You know what was bad, Doc? You know what was bad?”

And there goes the rustling pen again. “No, I don’t. What was bad?”

Stan let out a short, nervous laugh; he’d been expecting the doctor to tell him to calm down. Not that he’d been able to stop himself from ranting on, either way. “What was bad – what was bad was when one of his goons walked in on the, the usual and he stopped, he fucking _stopped_ and had a goddamn business briefing – can you believe this shit? I’m not making this up, Doc, I was there – I was there on my knees with his huge, leaking dick shoved in my mouth while he – you ever done that, Doc? Ever had someone’s dick in your mouth?”

“…No.” Stan allowed himself an inward grin at the sound of uneasiness in Dr. Holstein’s voice. “No, I haven’t… had that, hm, opportunity, if one could call it that.”

Stan let out another barking laughter that was starting to sound a bit hysterical. “Well, it sure is a life-changing experience! Really makes you think! _That_ _’s_ the worst part, you know, the _thinking!_ You really – really _feel_ it – right there, throbbing on your tongue, and it makes you fucking sick but you can’t – I, I tried to pull away but he was tugging at my hair, he held me still, and I… I couldn’t fucking _wait_ until he’d finished his stupid meeting so I could – you know, Doc, no joke here, I actually tried to continue sucking him off while the other guy was still there, but he fucking _slapped_ me, he said I was distracting him, _Jesus!_ You expect me to just sit there and wait, motherfucker? A-are you listening to this, Doc? He was giving me a break but I didn’t _want_ a goddamn break! I just wanted to do my fucking job! Do you – do you know what that makes me, Doc?”

“Stanley –“

Rico pinned him against the wall and yanked his head sideways to tongue his jawline while rolling his hips lazily against his. It was mainly meant to get himself hard, but he certainly didn’t seem to mind getting a reaction out of Stan as well while he was at it.

Stan didn’t do a thing to stop him. He’d rather listen to the other man’s disgusting grunts and breaths gradually turning into animalistic panting than the screams of pain in the other room where Javier was finishing his prey. His eyes slipped shut. He was getting hard as well. It was difficult not to with so much contact and friction, with Rico’s hands under his shirt and his teeth grazing ravenously the sensitive neck of his skin.

Then Rico decided he was ready and pulled away so suddenly that Stan collapsed on the floor. Rico was instantly there, tugging him closer by his hair while unzipping his pants with his other hand. Stan leaned in before he’d even pulled himself out, mouthing the other man’s erection through his underwear while his numb, trembling fingers reached between his own legs.

His mind was filled with a pleasantly dull buzz. He needed to do something, to focus on something, anything but sit there helplessly and let everything happening around him get into his head. Anything to mute the noises in the background.

Rico was leaning against the wall, thrusting into Stan’s mouth with unusually soft movements as he did his job as best he could, and the sound of his loud and lustful moans drilled into his brain, sending small shocks of pleasure down his entire body.

Somehow, at some point, it was over.

He could still taste traces of Rico’s climax when a hand was suddenly flung at him. He flinched, but it didn’t strike; Rico had knelt down to his eye level and was holding his arm in front of his face.

“Look”, he said breathily, taking a gentle grip on Stan’s chin. “What do you call this? _Piel de gallina_ … ‘Chicken skin’, is it? …Ah yes, ‘goosebumps’. No whore has ever done this to me before. _Incre_ _íble_ , Stanley. You’re gotten so good at this… You make me proud.”

Stan made a small noise; he was still absently palming the front of his pants, not really even trying to make himself come. But he did, when Rico placed his hand on his and guided his aimless movements. It took less than twenty seconds.

“Stanley, come back.”

Stan gulped hard as he returned to the doctor’s office; his grip on the armrests was so tight that the leather was wailing beneath his fingers. “Yeah, yeah, I’m back”, he grunted, his head still swimming from the flashback.

“Good.” That goddamn pen. “Now, I doubt the events you just described were real, either. I’m under the impression that the night before your escape was the only occasion he ever, hm, reciprocated for the sexual acts you were forced to perform on him. Regardless, something caught my interest, and I would like you to tell me something.”

“Fire away, Doc”, Stan said in an almost tired tone of voice.

“Did your father ever praise you in your childhood?”

“Okay, what the _fuck?_ ” That did it; Stan jumped up from his chair and turned to face Dr. Holstein for the first time since he’d walked into the room. “Wh, what does my dad have to do with anything?” he almost shouted. “You think I’ve got some kind of a daddy issue here, is that what you’re saying? Jesus fucking Christ, just what kind of a sicko do you think I am? What kind of a sicko are _you?_ ”

“Please, Stanley, sit down and listen to me”, said Dr. Holstein. He was visibly alarmed by Stan’s sudden loss of temper, and perhaps to regain his composure, he reached out for a book placed on a desk beside him. “As you know, I am a psychoanalyst by profession, and as such I have to consider the pivotal factors that might’ve affected your emotional growth in your childhood, namely the relationship with your parents. According to Freud –“

“I don’t give a shit what Freud says! I know the guy, he was a perv who wanted to fuck his own mom! Don’t bring that sick fuck into this, and most of all, don’t you fucking bring my dad into this! You hear me?”

“Yes, I hear you. Please lower your voice. You’re disturbing the other clients.”

Stan didn’t listen; he was done with listening to anything the doctor said. “Don’t you ever compare my dad to him, ever! Don’t you dare put him next to that son of a bitch who – _shit_ – use your fucking eyes, won’t you? Just look what that fucker does to me!” In a wild motion, he grabbed his own crotch. “Look at this!” he yelled in a hateful fervor. “ _Look!_ ”

The doctor averted his eyes. “I have to ask you not to –“

“I’M HARD AS A ROCK!” Stan roared so hard the volume of his voice was hurting his own ears _._ “ _Look!_ I get a raging boner just thinking about him! Shit, I have to jack off almost every night to get him out of my fucking head so I can sleep! What does your precious Freud say about that, huh?” he quipped almost victoriously. “Pretty fucked up, am I right? So don’t you bring my dad into this! I might be fucking sick, but I’m not _that_ sick! I don’t need your psychoanalyst bullshit, I know damn well what’s wrong with me! _I know what I am!_ You know too, don’t you, Doc?”

“This has to stop.” Now Dr. Holstein had stood up as well. “If you don’t calm yourself right now, I’ll have to call the guards.”

“Yeah, don’t even try to deny it!” Stan continued yelling like he hadn’t even heard the warning. “I know what you’re thinking! You’ve been thinking it from the moment I first walked in! It’s written all across my face, isn’t it? I bet everybody can see it from miles away, even without the obvious hard-on, which just makes it real nice and obvious, I guess! Come on, say the word! I know you want to! SAY IT, DOCTOR! FUCKING TELL ME WHAT I AM!”

At that moment, two guards rushed in and hooked a violent grip on his arms. “HEY! I’m not done, I’m not fucking done with this asshat! LET ME GO!”

“I’m sorry, Stanley, but the session is over”, Dr. Holstein said, appearing much calmer now that he wasn’t alone with the raging man. “I hate to say this, but seeing the level of hostility you have towards me, I’ll have to reconsider keeping you as my patient. Perhaps you should seek help from someone else. I’ll contact you later with reference to another form of treatment. Good day.”

“Hey! HEY! YOU’RE NOT KICKING ME OUT, DAMN IT!”

But it was no use. Despite his furious struggle, the guards carried him all the way to the parking lot, where Ford was waiting for him in his car.

“Stanley?” Ford yelped and jumped out of the car as his brother was finally let go and shoved roughly towards him. “What – what happened?” he asked as he grabbed Stan by his shoulders. “Why on Earth were you carried out? What did you _do?_ ”

“Get off me!”

“St–“

“I said GET OFF, Sixer!” With a violent motion, Stan twisted himself out of his confused twin’s hold and turned back to the building behind him, his head throbbing with rage. “You think I’m done?” he snarled to himself. “ _You think I_ _’m fucking done?_ Think again, dickwad! I’ll tell you when I’m done!” Instead of heading to the front door still blocked by the two guards that had carried him down, he directed his furious steps towards the row of windows near the corner of the building.

“Stanley!” Ford ran after him, but not fast enough to stop him from leaping onto a shaky emergency ladder right next to the window of Dr. Holstein’s office. “Are you out of your mind?” he shouted, hesitating to climb after him out of fear that the ladder wouldn’t be able to carry both of them. “Get back down this instant! Stop being ridiculous! STANLEY!”

“Fuck you, Stanford!” Stan yelled, well aware that everyone in the yard was now looking at him climbing up the wall like a complete lunatic. “FUCK ALL OF YOU! I know what you all are thinking! I’m done with this bullshit diplomacy, all right? I’m fucking _done_ with everybody dancing around the issue, like they don’t know what’s up! They all know! Well, I’m not playing this game anymore! HEY, DOC!” Leaning dangerously over the ladder’s side, he reached out to bang on the fourth window from the ground. Inside the room, Dr. Holstein flinched and turned to face the window with a shocked expression. “GUESS WHAT? _GUESS WHAT?_ _I_ _’M A FUCKING WHORE!_ ”

“STANLEY!” he could hear Ford yelling from below with a distant note of terror. He felt almost relieved – no, not almost, he _was_ relieved. So relieved it made his head spin.

“YOU HEAR ME, DOC?” he continued roaring. “OH, WHO AM I KIDDING, YOU ALREADY KNEW! YOU ALL KNEW! WELL, HERE’S ONE MORE TIME FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK! STANLEY PINES IS A FILTHY, NEEDY LITTLE SLUT WHO CAN’T GET ENOUGH OF BIG, FAT, SWEATY COCKS! THAT’S RIGHT, FOLKS, JUST SHOVE’EM ALL UP IN THIS BI- _AAAGH!_ “

The ladder gave in under his weight, and he dropped to the ground with a dull _thump_ ; the pain in his right ankle blinded him for a moment. “Urrghh, _fuck!_ God – fucking –“

“ _Stanley, you idiot!_ What in the devil were you –” Ford was by his side in an instant, but he shoved him away.

“Stay away from me, Ford!” he rasped through his teeth gritted with pain.

Ford paled. “It’s okay, Stanley”, he said quietly with a weak attempt of a smile. “I am not mad at you… Let’s just go home, all right? Everything else can wait. Come on.”

“I’m not going home”, Stan muttered, cold sweat breaking on his forehead. “Fuck you. Fuck all of you. Fuck this place, fuck the United States of America…” He held out his violently shaking hand. “Sixer, give me my car keys.”

“What?”

“I’m going back to Mexico.”

“No… No, Stanley. No.”

“Yeah”, Stan nodded, mainly to himself. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m going back. Fuck this. Give me the keys. Just give me the fucking keys!”

“Brother”, Ford uttered, desperation straining his voice. “Don’t… don’t be absurd. Just come home with me. Please.”

“Don’t touch me”, Stan stammered feverishly, backing away from his brother and supporting himself on the wall, trying to stand on his only good leg. He could see the guards approaching him with Dr. Holstein in tow; his breathing became shallow as he noticed the small syringe in the doctor’s hand. “No. No. Don’t come near me. D-don’t you fucking…”

 _He couldn_ _’t move. He couldn_ _’t move. He couldn_ _’t move._

“Stanley, it’s all right”, Dr. Holstein said slowly, holding up the syringe in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring. “I promise we won’t hurt you. This will only help you calm down. You’re safe.”

“H-hah. As if. Get that shit away from me, will ya? I know how this works. I-I’ve had enough sedatives for one lifetime.” Stan let out a stifled laughter. “Look, I… I’ll just leave, okay? All you have to do is give me the keys, and I’ll be out of your hair, and… that’s it. Nobody has to spend another penny on me or this stupid therapy that’s never gonna do me any good. I’ll go back to being what I’ll be for the rest of my life, his – his goddamn whore…” His voice cracked, and his throat felt tight. “I-it’s all I was ever good for, anyway –“

“Snap out of it, Stanley!” Ford shouted. “You cannot go back, he’s –“ twelve fingers clenched into fists, “– he’s _dead!_ ”

…

Stan shifted his wavering gaze from the syringe to his brother, who appeared frightened by his own words. “Who?” he asked slowly, unable to connect the dots. “Who’s dead?”

Ford’s eyes traveled through the people gathered around the yard, looking at them. He gulped and drew a deep breath. “Don Federico is dead”, he said, his voice quiet and stern as he looked directly into the eyes of his twin.

Stan couldn’t understand. “Rico’s dead?” he repeated.

“Yes. Rico is dead”, Ford said once more. “I guarantee it.”

“No.”

“I’m telling you the truth. He’s gone.”

“How? How do you know? What killed him? _Who_ killed him? I – I didn’t…” Stan pointed a shaking finger at his brother. “How could _you_ – you don’t even – there’s _no way_ –“

“He’s dead”, Ford pressed on. “That is all you need to know for now. Trust me.”

“But that makes no sense! How the fuck –“

“ _Trust me_. Please.”

Stan stared at his brother, then at the ground beneath his feet. It felt a lot steadier now.

“Rico’s dead”, he said after a long moment of silence.

“Yes.”

“You’re… You’re not bluffing.”

“No. He’s really gone, Stanley.”

“I’m gonna need proof.”

“Well, I…” Ford hesitated, then nodded firmly. “I understand. I will get you proof. But for the time being, you’ll have to take my word for it.”

“This isn’t a trick, right?”

“No, it’s not a trick. I promise.”

Stan nodded. “Yeah…” he muttered. “Yeah.” Then he collapsed on the ground and let out a groan. “Ugh. I… I think I broke my ankle or something.”

Ford managed a small smile. “Well, that is what you get for trying to climb up people’s windows. We’re not children anymore.” He knelt down beside his brother and looped an arm around him to help him up. “Come on… Let me take you to the hospital.”

Stan’s facial muscles seemed to have forgotten how smiling worked, so he settled for shrugging his shoulders weakly.

Before they could head to the parking lot, Dr. Holstein spoke up. “Dr. Pines, I’ll have to be frank with you”, he said as he put the syringe in the pocket of his coat. “While I’m glad to see this situation is over, I think your brother might be in need of institutional care for the time being. During our sessions, he’s manifested delusional behavior that could be a symptom of functional psychosis. Just now we all saw he’s capable of hurting himself, and perhaps others as well. Most of all, we need to think of his own well-being.”

“Hey, I’m right here, pal”, Stan put in with a frown.

“Right, I’m sorry, Stanley.” Holstein gave him a look that made it clear he’d rather not talk to him after the earlier incident in his office. “I think of Stanford as your current caretaker, seeing how he’s responsible for the monetary side of your treatment. I must also mention that institutional care would ease the financial burden significantly. Outpatient services are quite expensive compared to those provided in psychiatric wards. I could refer you to a proficient one right away.”

Ford turned his head to look at his brother, who was leaning heavily on his shoulder. “I know how much my financial commitment to your treatment bothers you”, he said quietly. “So I will let you decide. I… I don’t know how severe your symptoms are, as you haven’t… really talked to me. If… If you feel some time in institutional care is what you need right now, you’ll have my full support. It is up to you, Stanley.”

Stan heaved a sigh. “All right, you can give that pen a rest, Doc.” Dr. Holstein, who was busy writing down the contact information of a psychiatric ward on his notebook, raised his gaze. “I’m not gonna be locked up in some madhouse. Not yet. If I go loco again, well, then we might have a couple of bridges to cross. But for now, Sixer and I got it under control. Right, buddy?”

“Oh… Yes.” Ford gave him a relieved smile. “Absolutely.”

“Still might wanna hand me over to another shrink, though”, Stan pointed out to Dr. Holstein, who smiled cautiously.

“Very well. I’ll be in contant in that regard. Now, Dr. Pines…” He turned to Ford with a serious look. “It’s none of my business, but whatever the sources to your information are… I advise you to be careful.”

“I will”, Ford nodded gravely.

“That being said, I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t glad to hear the news. The world is ridden with a little less scum today. Well, goodbye for now.” With a nod, he walked away.

Stan and Ford walked across the parking lot without a hurry; they could still feel the eyes of bystanders who had witnessed Stan’s rampage following them. Stan wanted to turn around to flip them all off, but Ford wouldn’t allow it.

“So… Rico’s dead”, Stan said again as they reached the car. “The bastard’s really kicked it, huh?”

“Yes”, said Ford simply as he carefully let Stan down on the front seat, supporting his injured leg.

“How…?”

“It’s a long story”, Ford interrupted. “I will explain everything in due time. All that matters is he will never hurt you again.”

“Yeah… Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Stan stared blankly ahead. Suddenly he let out a noise that was something between a snort and a chuckle. “Sorry, bro, it’s just the way you say it… Makes it sound like you hired a hitman or something.”

“Ah… No, it’s not like that.” Ford avoided looking at Stan as he reached for the safety belt. “I… I made a deal”, he then blurted out as though he hadn’t actually meant to say it out loud. His ears turned red.

Stan turned to look at him. “Okay, that just made it more ominous”, he said with a raised eyebrow. “I’m getting kinda worried here. You didn’t actually –“

“No, Stanley”, Ford interrupted firmly. “Do not worry. His death cannot be linked to me in any way.”

“Jesus Christ, Sixer”, said Stan.

“Just trust me on this, will you not?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Still. …Sheesh. What a brother.”

A long silence followed. Ford fiddled with the car keys in a rather uncomfortable manner. “Stanley”, he finally said, “you’re… you’re not…”

“Oh… Yeah. I know”, Stan answered with a grimace. “I, uh, I’m sorry you and a half of the state had to hear that, bro. I’m a basket case and an idiot.”

“I won’t argue with that.” Ford’s voice was pained as he finally started the car. “Never say anything like that again. Don’t even… Don’t even allow yourself to think that way. Never again, Stanley.”

“Yeah.” This time, Stan could muster up an awkward smile. The sound of gravel rustling under the tires of his car was oddly soothing to his ears. “I, uh… I don’t think I have to.”


End file.
